Sanders Sides Oneshots
by 373829g
Summary: I'm finally writing my own story! Yay! I'm a great writer,I know that, but I lack motivation and ideas so... yeah. This story doesn't really have a plot, so I have no summary, but I'll come up with something along the way like I usually do. But basically, you're 24 years old and best friends with a 27 year old Thomas. You have a wife, but your gender is not specified. Fluff, angst
1. Background Information

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="18199c610e92feeecd03662ac73fbfdb"So, like I said in the summary, your gender is not specified but you do have a wife because I, personally am a lesbian, and, like all my good ideas, this idea stemmed from me being bored and depressed and pretending I had a different life. This just happened to be the first time it was a fanfiction and not some 'Truman Show' shit./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="b0161bd504a8212ae0b87129e1753cfe"Your wife is a traveling nurse (honestly just because I wanted her out of the picture so I could focus on Thomas) and you're a bestselling author who works from home./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="6c35f27f02a6f631631e445dcf1e41b7"Thomas is still the same, but I'm not that kind of fangirl, and I don't watch many of his videos, so I don't know him as well as a lot of you probably do. Same goes for Remy but I feel like I know enough to keep up his public appearance./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="5ae263b3613a25f52acf19b24bfbcc50"Now to the actual background of the story. You meet your wife when you were 15, but you didn't start dating until you were 18. When she was newly 17, her parents died in a really bad car crash on the highway (like, pushed off by an 18-wheeler into a river, bad), and, as she was still a minor, she needed a legal guardian until she turned 18. She had a choice between her grandparents, or her godfather. Her grandparents were rude, and extremely homophobic. Her godfather is Thomas. So, obviously, she chose Uncle Thomas. Then you and Thomas meet and become friends through your girlfriend. Simple 'Meet the Parents' dinner but, "Oh my fucking god, it's Thomas Sanders, oh my lord w/n why did you not tell me, oh my god Thomas I fucking love you oh my god!" (Que the hyperventilation)/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="f58446112552acac87f9ca43201b7a44"And then when you're 21, you finally propose to w/n, and then Thomas points out at the wedding that you're officially part of the famILY, and cue the "OH MY FUCKING GOD, THOMAS FUCKING SANDERS IS BASICALLY MY MOTHER FUCKING DAD HOLY SHIT MY LIFE IS A LIE" (Dramatic sigh)/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="eb589a1fbabde6d536fba2a906af1e6c"Then you and w/n moved to Texas. (1604 N Mars St, Amarillo, Texas to be precise. It's my childhood home, and I want to go back. I live vicariously through my writing, ok?) And Thomas followed suit, getting a house not far from you (like, walking distance)./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="c20f85f7692ffb1e5f77a795ea4cd5c2"So now you're 24, and you just found out, again, that you're life is a lie, but by god, this time your life may actually be a lie./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="69bb4bc0434447251928e10f24cb395b"Also, this is DLAMPTR./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="c1828bd4ed84566e3d915c0f316538e1"And I just want to tell you beforehand that they're all a whole head taller than you./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="526b2aa65d63b9459acdfe388c8e54cc"Anyways, I think that's all you need to know beforehand, (I normally would've written a prologue but, I'm lazy.)/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="21387dd03fe43dda657a58cc483b84cb"Enjoy the next 24 hours of your life. : )br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="858456ebd888f1c9fb60c8fbb87e8883"Also, Spoiler Alert: Right off the bat, I killed a character, and there's a lot of angst, with some fluff, but mostly overwhelming, super depressing angst. I have no remorse. (Translation: I AM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME I WASN'T PLANNING IT BUT THEN IT HAPPENED AND NOW IT'S TOO GOOD OF A STORY AND I CAN'T TAKE IT BACK BUT IT'S KILLING ME JUST AS MUCH AS IT'S KILLING YOU)/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="e8db05a3b2c1071d88d3f9c2c28f5aba"If you see any mistakes with grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. please tell me. Thank you./p 


	2. Chapter I

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="3c114a74c653110bddf73ef9615c5738"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"(A/N It starts out slow and bleh but it quickly gets much better, I promise. Please tell me if I make any mistakes with grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. And I'm always open to constructive criticism. Please. I always ask and no one ever actually gives me any. I can't get better if I don't know what's lacking the most. )/span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="69abe638a1531acfc2914d09a8dc8653" I sighed as I plopped down on the couch, taking a break from my work to read some fan fiction. It was an average day. I was working at home all day, writing another bestseller. My wife is out of the country, saving lives with her nursing degree. And Thomas Sanders just walked in my front door. I smile to myself as he stands in front of me. 6 years of being best friends with him, but I still feel as ecstatic as when he was introduced to me as my future father in law. I look up from my Sanders Sides fanfic, and into the eyes of 'Logan', clad in his usual black polo, and striped blue tie. Thomas showing up dressed, and acting as one of his sides isn't unusual. It's a multi-daily occurrence actually. It's so much as if his sides are actually real, which would be amazing, but I quickly push those hopes down, knowing it'll never happen. When I meet 'Logan's' eyes, I immediately frown. He looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. While it might not have been very obvious to anyone else, I could tell immediately./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="fa9c553624420a0f5118f3da69681aa2" "Hello, Logan," I greet him. "Are you alright? You don't look so well." He quickly composes himself more, though still failing to hide his worry from me, and takes a shaky breath. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="c6709841eb2a05e332e8e60f7d28dc1b""Salutations, Y/N. Have you by chance seen Remy, lately?" I quirk an eyebrow at him. My god, this man is such an amazing actor./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="59ad8d174115446cd57e5d44a9b74ad2""Yeah, he brought me coffee and doughnuts at work today. Why?" I explain, playing along as always./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="67428b26bb3b2b484ccb0d4a22326811""He's been absent lately. As he is not a side, but rather a function, he usually stays locked up in Thomas' subconscious, only coming out at times of slumber. For his 'shift' per say. However, the last few days, he hasn't shown up to let Thomas sleep and it's starting to affect all of us. Something is wrong with him, but we can not help him with whatever's bothering him if we can't find him. And now with his absence so negatively affecting all of us, soon we will no longer have the energy to look for him. However, as he's still maintaining contact with you, I deduct that you can help him through whatever dilemma he currently has, and bring him back so we can further help him and/or recharge," he explained in his professional tone. I just stared at him. I swear, I'm dreaming. This seems too in depth to be improv. I worry Thomas might actually be sleep deprived, and his creativity has gone overboard./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="37d904577e1235e8f61bf564b802c999""Are you sure you're okay, Thomas?" I ask carefully. To this, Thomas huffs. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="2b9ffa20b545d698393e8ad815a570ca""Y/N, come on. You're a really smart person. You can't honestly think that Thomas just shows up in his own self-cosplay with a never ending storyline, can you? You saw Thomas' improv video. You know he's not good at acting on the figurative spot." Is he trying to say what I think he's trying to say? "We're real, Y/N. Sanders Sides isn't fake, it's real. We're actually parts of Thomas. Physical manifestations of common characteristics, and we, all 8 of us, not 1, need your help," I stare at him with wide eyes. Either Thomas is a sick bastard playing a sick prank on me, which I sincerely doubt, or my life is a lie. Oh my lanta, my life is a lie. And I'm an idiot. I mean, it's so obvious. I even have 8 different phone numbers for each of them, and they're always acting so suspicious, and... and I have 8 different phone numbers for each of them! I quickly stand up and open my contact list./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="1f478ba7455935205b316951206ba597""Have you tried calling him?" I ask hurriedly. He lets out a breath at my quick acceptance./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="f5b9474a4606baed9a5f6cc571afbb95""Yes. We all have, but he won't pick up."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="2614602116aee17d39895c221c51b207""Have you tried locating his phone?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="a3b5866e01a23b6915b4cbe9623ab6cc""Yes, but when he sees us, he quickly leaves. But with you..." /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="2e0364abab7080dec8d5b362049fa6a6""...he's not avoiding me so I can call and ask him to meet me somewhere to talk about what's bothering him!" I say, finishing his sentence./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="de8e6e187d75f91c34153743b74880c7""Yes," he confirms, simply. I quickly dial Remy and put the phone to my ear. As usual, he answers after the third ring./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="4f4bef10d4ec7e12cf1bdb36bc5ae7b5""'Sup, gurl?" he says. His usual greeting. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="719b5ac48b84561fe76e7385b4d3d1d5""Hey bis, whacha up to?" I reply, my equipped conversational tone changing./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="20f26c554afe601526944cce468c41d4""The usual. On my way to get s'more of the good stuff."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="6177b20c0404cc606146350ad279e487""Great! I'll meet you there!"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="2c287080bd0d9b1461d15fcc2519f315""Kay, bye bish," he says before hanging up. I make meaningful eye contact with Logan before grabbing my jacket and heading out the door./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;" data-p-id="ec1402cade03a05e037090dc3f40fe6a"em style="box-sizing: border-box;"Time Skip to Starbucks/em/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;" data-p-id="26478db11a74b3c8675f463fee30cba7" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="32e611575468282906b20fc198b5dffd"I open the glass door to Starbucks. It's 6:30, so not many people are in, leaving Remy one of 4 people in the small cafe. He was sitting by the window, watching traffic with a drink in hand. I sit down and take of sip of the extra extra extra sweet caramel frappuccino that's waiting for me on the table. I've done this plenty of times already. I know not to address Remy when he's clearly deep in thought. He knows I'm here but he's finishing his thought process. Much like trying to finish a dream when you were pulled out of rem sleep in the middle of it. Although, now that I think about it, that's probably exactly what's happening. He is sleep after all. I let that sink in for a bit. All this time, I've been best friends with not only Thomas Sanders, which is magical enough as it is, but all 7 of his sides. And they all love me. Thomas freaking Sanders loves me with literally every part of him. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="e914b5461f307d3828198ef4405631f0""Hey, Y/N," Remy finally says, piercing through my own thoughts. I look up and am taken aback, blinking in surprise. Remy had taken off his glasses, resting them on his shirt, rather than his nose. This is an extremely rare occasion, and the few times it's happened before, we were in the solitude of my room. And he only takes off his glasses when something is terribly wrong and he doesn't want them to get wet when his walls inevitably come crashing down. But no matter what was wrong, he wouldn't cry in public. He wasn't worried about ruining his expensive Ray-Bans. No. He was letting me read him. Of course. Eyes are portals to your thoughts and emotions, and I am, almost scarily, skilled in the art of reading people. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="53b16b301119d9714533b2a64570258a"His eyes are blank of emotion, and there's bags underneath them. He's sleep deprived too. But this doesn't make sense. He em style="box-sizing: border-box;"is/em sleep. For him to be sleep deprived, he'd need to be deprived of himself...That's it. He's having an identity crisis. He doesn't know who he is anymore, and he feels like he lost himself, so it's appearing that way physically. But why does he feel like he lost himself? I look deeper. Behind his blank stare. Behind his mask. It's hidden well, but there's an overwhelmingly large pool of sadness, with small amounts of...fear? Oh Remy. I gave him a sympathetic look before walking to the counter and getting 18 cake pops in variety. I grabbed his hand and we left. Our spot was at a park just across from Starbucks. I led him around the lake and towards the swinging bench. We walked in silence, but as we neared the bench, I could hear his breathing get louder as he struggled to keep his walls from falling, so I walked him faster to solitude. We finally reached the bench and he sat down and tore off his bag, tossing it to the side, knowing I would catch it. I carefully hung it on the side of the swing, and sat down next to Remy, pushing the button to tell the bench to start lightly was staring at the ground, lost in thought again. I waited for him to be ready to start a few moments he finally spoke up./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="4b69827a1b62831d9d471f7359eefc78""They told you, didn't they?" I knew exactly what the was referring to./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="1094f4b07bfa90f63767d06c6f632977""They did. But I'm not here to talk about that right now," I responded. He knew what I wanted to talk about. I knew he knew. But he still stayed silent. He had his head down, and his hands clasped tightly together in his lap as he tried so hard not to cry. I scooted closer to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched, not expecting the touch, but he didn't pull away. "Remy," I started, quiet and gentle. "What's wrong?"/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="cb5f66f5211a670c6c55f63eb7bf3fde"That was it for him. He brought his knees up to his chest and leaned up against me, now sobbing, with tears rapidly running down his face and soaking out clothes. I laid us back and firmly held him close, running one hand through his hair and patting his back with the other while he let out what must be at least a weeks worth of tears./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="cb884be621c1119bd9704c9cdccd1833"When he was done crying, he didn't move, unlike the few other times I've soothed him. Instead he stayed curled up against me. I continued to stroke his hair as he wrapped his arms around me, quietly sniffling. We sat in a comfortable silence as he prepared to open up to me. Finally, he lets out a shaky breath./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="07eaf1696d3185556f3289f6efe467c2""Have you ever lost someone you loved, Y/N?" he asks quietly. Oh, Remy. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="0aa558f37aaee284c7ed2c0eb01121b7""Not that I really cared about, no."/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="f38d5f9306a9d7b2bfcd7a1a1e98dff8""How would you feel if you were to suddenly get a call saying there was a bombing at the airport W/N was at, or a shooting at a cafe, and she was dead? Gone. You're never gonna see her again. You never even got to say goodbye." I didn't answer. It was a rhetorical question. "All my life, I've felt like I wasn't appreciated. Thomas likes sleep, but Remy just annoys him. Like how he doesn't like anxiety, but he loves Virgil, but vice versa. The others too. They like sleep, and energy, and maintaining a circadian rhythm, but they don't like me. They hate how I talk, and act, and how much coffee I drink. All my life, I've felt unloved, and all I want was for someone willing to put as much into me as I'm willing to put into them. And I finally found someone who has so much love to give. He was always so bubbly, and happy, and energetic, and all he ever wanted was to help people. And he was so intelligent, and intuitive, and sassy. He loved me for who I am. And I loved him so much. You don't understand how much this man meant to me. It physical hurt me when he was sad, and I would do anything for him to never be sad again. I would give him my heart if he needed it. He was beautiful, and perfect in every way, and I loved him more than words can explain." by now tears were rushing out of his eyes again, and he was struggling to keep talking. He sat up and pulled a small, black box out of his pocket, leaning forward and opening it to reveal a beautiful engagement ring. " I was planning to propose to him. He was late for our date, and when I went to call him, my phone rang. It was a police officer, calling me from his phone, asking me to go down to the station, because he murdered in his sleep." He closed the ring box and buried his head in his hands, sobbing again, but he stayed strong a little while longer. "I don't understand how someone so innocent, and pure could fall victim to whatever awful being did this. He didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve to miss out on everything waiting for him. Marriage, children, grandchildren. He cherished everyday, every person, every idea. He devoted his life to helping to helping people, and he lost it. And as for me, I'm back to being unloved in the worst way possible. I finally found the one thing I've wanted my entire life, and it was ripped away from me and brutally murdered the second I decided to claim it forever. Literally. We didn't break up, he lost his life in his own bed. He's gone, and I'm never gonna see him again." He gasped for air. "I'm never gonna see him again," he repeated, quieter than ever. He gave in and broke down sobbing again. I knew the best I could do was hold him close, so I did. So we laid there on the powered rocking bench, while he continued to cry and mourn over the loss of the only man he ever loved. I can't even begin to comprehend how he must be feeling, but what I do know is that what he needs right now is love and support./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="813388c94f5ae505b38c222d619e487e"(10 minutes later)/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="05648155b2d10b766e20e9e1e36a0627"After Remy calmed down for the most part, we sat in a comfortable silence, still embraced in each other's arms, sharing each other's warmth, and watching the sunset across the lake. I pulled a couple cake pops out of my pocket and gave him a chocolate one, which he quietly nibbled on while I ate a birthday one. He shifted a bit before releasing a breath. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="f1925e26c45f3e279347aa49d5b320b6""He was a therapist. A couple's therapist. He could come off as childish and immature at times, but he just had a young soul. He uses cartoons to learn, and teach people about relationships, and what's healthy or what's destructive. He looked so deep into the meaning of all these shows and it amazed me how he could deduct so much psychological meaning from action-packed children's entertainment. He loved cartoon, and all things Disney, just like Thomas. And he accepted me for who I was. For what I was. I told him I was a part of someone. A function. A piece. Quite literally not whole, and it didn't bother him. His only goal in life was to help people. All people, no matter what," he explains beautifully. "You might have heard of him. He was an amazing therapist, everyone knew it. The only patients he didn't succeed with were those with relationships built on a foundation of lies." He let out a shaky breath before saying "Emile Picani. The most perfect man I've ever met. The only man who ever loved me." He started breathing a little more heavily, trying to keep from crying again. I simply gave him another cake pop, this time cookie dough, so he could focus on something other than his loss. Other than Emile. "What about you? What's going on in Y/N's world?" he asks, needing something to take his mind off of his misery./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="4250bf6c1e4b286af1a330a579c47c7b""I'm good," I start, pretending I haven't been receiving depressing news for the past 20 minutes. "I'm a bestseller author, my wife's a travelling nurse. Because of that we don't see each other very often, but we talk all the time. And I just found out that all of my favorite characters from one of my fandoms are real, and I've been best friends with every single one of them. But one of them, his name is Remy, and he is without a doubt the coolest of all 8 of them, he's going through a really tough time right now. He just lost someone he loves very much, and he misses that person like crazy. I can't even begin to understand how he must feel, but I'm here for him whenever he needs me. And on top of his tragic loss, he feels like no one loves him. He feels like they only appreciate his service, and not his company. But I know for a fact that this isn't true. The people he thinks don't love him? They're my other 7 best friends, and I know they love and appreciate him so much. They look up to him. They love his services em style="box-sizing: border-box;"and /emhis company. They love how he always talks in slang, but not too much. They love how chill and sassy he is. They love how even though he appears to be really distant and cold, he often does things that remind them that underneath his careless exterior, he really cares about them so much. And even if doesn't believe me when I say that, I know he knows that I love him. And that I'm here for him. And that I will buy him cake pops anytime," I finish up, ending on the least important one as always to get him to laugh. And it works. It always does. It's small and quiet, but a chuckle escapes his mouth nonetheless. He sits up, and takes a deep breath, straightening his back. I know that means he's ready to leave, so I stop the bench and we stand up. Remy turns to me and embraces me in a firm hug. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="27d15673a7c6ab967323ada5435ea53a""Thank you Y/N. For everything, always. I don't know what I would do without you." He holds me tighter, and I just rub circles on his back, knowing he doesn't expect me to reply. "Please don't ever leave me Y/N. You don't understand how much I need you." I do, but I stay silent. "And Y/N?" he asks. I hum in response. He pulls back and kisses me on the forehead before looking me in the eyes and saying "I love you too." I smile and reach up to wipe away a lingering tear, giving him a meaningful look. 'I know.' He gives me a small smile before reclaiming his glasses and bag, and walking with me towards my house, stopping for more coffee first, of course./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="cfe201de5943405c840233fec4378a45" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="b7d02b64f9e47354bf0b62bf4c2cd954" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="714e797025a55e6b0e4a0fb86b5af67a" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="f38f085c1b938f2edbdd66de2f73e709" /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="e456426fe3bbc41690d3916043f41ccc"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"I am so sorry. I didn't plan to kill Emile, it just happened, and now I can't take it back because this is too beautiful despite being depressing as shit. I'll try to keep it fluffier, but another surprise truckload of angst might show up again, because I'm depressed. And I em style="box-sizing: border-box;"might/em, extra emphasis on the 'might', write a Remile fluff book. Or more likely a one shot book with Remile fluff. Or nothing at all. Either way, I think we all need copious amounts of Remile fluff to make up for my angst chapter. Again, I'm em style="box-sizing: border-box;"so sorry/em./span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="6450a923590f01b5ddd1c7970fb8aadd"span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"Words: 3108. /spanspan style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold;"Holy fuck that was a lot of typing./span/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-size: 18px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px;" data-p-id="1f7cdf788f714778039f9e6c4f71a6a1" /p 


	3. BTW

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Ok so, I started writing chapter two but it had absolutely zero direction. So I'm going to make this a oneshot book. There'll be ALL ships, including the all inclusive DLAMPTR I had originally planned. I'll do a multitude of universes but I'll still do plenty from the one I've already created./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"So, now that this is a oneshot book, send me requests. Please? Any ship, except for ones with OC's like Pranks, or Wrath, and none with Emile except for Remile. Any AU. And I'all just do pretty much everything except for smut because I absolutely suck at writing it./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;" /p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Bye!/p 


	4. Crofters ABC Fic

An ABC fic is where the first letter of every sentence ascends down the alphabet. First sentence starts with A, second sentence starts with B, all the way until the last sentence starts with Z.

"Alright, who stole my Crofters?" Logan shouted, bolting down the stairs and parkouring over the railing. "Berry goodness is gone and whichever one of you committed this heinous crime, know that I will find you, and I will kill you," he said, his voice dangerously low, which earned frightened looks from each of the sides.

"Crofters, guys! Delicious Crofters! Exquisite Crofters! Fruity perfection! Goodness of my heart! Heathens! I will not stop until my Crofters is returned. Jelly, the ONLY jelly, I will put in my belly!" he ranted, making the others squirm uncomfortably in their seats.

"'Kay," Patton squeaked quietly.

"Lovely," Logan said before storming off to his room.

"My goodness! Now, who would do such a thing?" Roman said after they heard Logan's door slam shut.

"Ok, I don't wanna know why he's so fucking attached to a jelly brand, but whoever stole it needs to give it back right now," Virgil said from the floor.

"Please, if the jelly thief is in here, please give it back because this whole 'angry Logan' ordeal is making me feel… um," Patton started. "Queasy," he finished, finding the right word. Roman spoke next.

"So, if it wasn't any of us, who could it be?" Thomas walked in the room then and waved at them, eating out of a jar of Crofters.

"Unbelievable," Roman said. Virgil groaned and threw his hood on, pulling at the strings.

"Why, Thomas?" Patton whined.

"Xenobiotic!" Remus shouted, randomly appearing out of thin air for no reason, also eating from a jar of Crofters.

"You did it?! Patton exclaimed.

"Zabaglione!" is all he said before disappearing again.


End file.
